The fine dew works its way through my shoes to my feet, whilst the pungent aroma from the heated piles of wood reminds me of my grandfather. He came over with William the Duke of Normandy. Memories they are strange, one moment I am thinking about the woman Sarah, then I find myself wondering what sort of trees have fallen under the foresters axes. I can smell the faint trace of smoke, and see the shimmering haze from the charcoal burners camp.
The time has come to claim my right, for I am the lord of the castle. I will take Sarah to my bed, before she weds the young forester at noon. A young bucks desire is a hard task master, he will not thank me for my actions, but I am the lord of the manor and it is my right. These Saxons my not like me, but they will respect my power and bow down in duty to my rights.
Gaspard: The woman has stabbed me. Take the guards. Fire the village.